


Coming Down

by DiamondScribe (DiamondSuits)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 12:12:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12365532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamondSuits/pseuds/DiamondScribe
Summary: Bruce wakes.





	Coming Down

There was no real, striking moment that triggered it. The battle was over, but that hadn't stopped the Hulk in months. The danger hadn't even completely passed - he and Thor were still in the hold of their captors, still shoved in a two man cell and surrounded by a dozen other shouting inmates. There were still plenty of chances to fight, to escape.

Maybe it was just having a familiar face. Maybe the fight had taken it out of him. Maybe he was like Bruce, and could feel the pressure of always keeping some part repressed, always shoving some weaker self deeper and deeper until the barriers around it stretched too thin.

Whatever it was, Hulk couldn't vocalize it. His body spasmed, Thor's worried comments gone ignored as he staggered against the wall, head slamming against the stone with the force of the change.

There was no real way to describe what it felt like - the sudden shrinking, the cracking of bones, the tearing of muscles, all normal, all things he'd been through before, that now had his body screaming. A normal shift would have been an ache that lasted days, but this - he wasn't even able to scream, his wide open mouth only managing shuddering gasps. For one moment, the two selves were caught in one; the only moment where they were one person, conflicted and confused and angry and not.

Then, there was Bruce, shaking where he stood. He blinked once, twice, suddenly aware of a million sensations gone unfelt for months - rough stone under his hand, dust beneath his feet, cool, damp air on his face and blood on his hands, everything pressing in and demanding his attention at once.

His legs gave out.

He would have fallen (and would have been glad for it too, for the hard press of earth against his cheek to offer some sort of distraction from it all), but arms wrapped around him. His face was pressed up against warm, bare skin, still slick with sweat and smelling of dirt and leather and ozone. Even if he had the strength to pull away, he wouldn't have done it, his body wracked with pangs of pain and the sudden disorientation of feeling so small.

It took some time for him to realize that Thor had been murmuring to him - he couldn't quite tell what, mind too tired from the act of shifting to bear translating the white noise, but it was low, soothing, a rumble of distant thunder promising rain in the wake of a drought. Bruce's fingers clenched in the straps of Thor's armor, a sudden lurch of terror engulfing him. It was a selfish kind of fear, the kind that had him hating himself even more (as if that was even possible), but he couldn't deny it - the worst thing that could happen would be Thor letting him go.

Gradually, the rumbling became words, the hand in his hair settling on the back of his neck, a steadying weight. Bruce could feel every one of Thor's callouses against his skin.

"Bruce?"

Head still down, Bruce felt more than saw the way Thor bent, his breath stirring his hair.

"How long has it been?" 

He didn't clarify, and he didn't need to. Bruce breathed a laugh that sounded all wrong around the edges, like shards of glass stuck in his throat.

"Couldn't tell you. When I'm in there, things are... Fuzzy."

It was like watching the world through a gauzy haze - he got flashes of sight, sensations, pain, lulls of anger and bones breaking under his knuckles, but that was it. Nothing as concrete as a date or a time, just the hazy half rememberings of a life that wasn't technically his.

Something wet and cold dripped from the ceiling, goosebumps rising in its wake as it rolled down the bare skin of Bruce's back. Just then, he remembered how naked he was. Self consciousness should've been long trained out of him by then, but this was Thor, and a half dozen other leering slaves, so Bruce forced his fingers to unfurl from the armor as he took an awkward (and slightly shaky) step back.

"Uh..." He glanced down at the armor that the Hulk had left behind, all too big (and probably too heavy) for him to wear himself.

"Here." Thor removed his cape in one smooth motion, holding it to Bruce with understanding in his smile. "Wouldn't want you to catch cold."

"That would be the worst of our problems, wouldn't it?" Bruce wryly said, giving Thor a grateful look as he tied it around his waist.

There were a few awkward moments of silence; Bruce wasn't quite sure what to make of the god standing before him, and Thor seemed just as lost, both just sizing each other up as the moments ticked by. Despite the time apart, Thor seemed much the same as he did before; a lift to his chin that marked a regal bearing, but kindness in his eyes, a smile that came easily, stance that was loose and confident and painfully, unattainably handsome. There were a million questions Bruce needed to ask, from how the others fared, to where the hell they were. What had Thor been doing since that whole mess with Ultron? How had he ended up here? How had _they_ ended up here?

Instead, he cleared his throat and said, "I, uh... Like the haircut. It suits you."

The compliment was rewarded with a brilliant smile, Thor reaching back to ruffle beads of sweat from his hair. "You think so? I was fond of it before - I spent an age growing it to that length."

"It's more practical this way. Less likely to have someone grab it, I guess."

Thor grinned, playfully so.

"You say that as if I minded it."

Bruce's laugh was more genuine, then, tension draining from his shoulders for the first time in what feels like forever. There was still an awful soreness, and a gnawing hunger that told him he'd probably pass out if he didn't start to carbo load, but the cell felt a little bit brighter in the wake of Thor's smile.

"You're starting to sound like Tony." 

When the strength in his legs started to waver again, he settled on the one creaky cot their captors had laid out for them, and was pleased when Thor followed suit. Shifting from the Hulk always left him with an odd sense of vertigo, like the world around him was much bigger than it should have been - it was doubly so with Thor sitting beside him. It wasn't that he took up too much space (though he did occupy a large portion of the cot), but he just exuded this strange sense of confidence, of power, that seemed to charge the air around him. It left Bruce wondering if it was an aspect of his apparent godhood, or if Thor was just that sort of man. 

"How have you been, since... Everything?" 

And just like that, Thor's smile faded. Bruce immediately hated himself for asking.

"Asgard has fallen under Hela, a goddess whose power rivals that of my father. I defended my home as best I could, only to watch as she crumbled Mjölnir under her hand like a child's toy. I was captured here shortly thereafter."

His hand reflectively flexed, as if longing for the solid weight of his hammer.

"Oh." Bruce fell to awkward silence. Apologies never really worked; he knew how pity felt, and the way it made the hole feel that much deeper. So, slowly, he reached over, setting a hand on Thor's knee. Even through the leather, he could feel his warmth. 

Thor glanced his way, gratitude in the twist of his lips as he set his hand over Bruce's. 

"But Loki is alive, and you are here, so I am not so unfortunate." 

"...Ah." 

Of the few memories Bruce had of that first real battle, he could clearly picture the god in his hand, smashed into Tony's gleaming new floors again and again and again. 

Thor took one look at the uncertainty on his face, and laughed. 

"I do not fault you for doubting his intentions, but Loki is not so mad as to think that allowing Hela to succeed would lead to anything but destruction. He will help us." 

He looked down at Bruce with those big, earnest eyes, and for a moment, Bruce was trapped in the vortex of butterflies that batted madly around in his stomach. When was the last time someone had looked at him like he was anything but a ticking time bomb? 

"Us?" he repeated, searching for some sort of distraction. 

"Aye." Thor spoke as if it were obvious, as if Bruce's help in this whole endeavor was nothing if not inevitable (and some part of Bruce hated and envied that confidence in equal measure). "Hela's power threatens all the nine, not just Asgard. She will not stop on her own." 

Bruce pulled his hand back, arms resting on his knees. It seemed better to pay more attention to the tiny puddle in the corner of their cell than on Thor's face right then. 

"You know, I promised myself I wouldn't be pulled in to any of these world saving adventures again." 

"This goes further than your world, or mine. Hela threatens all that dare to oppose her." 

As if sensing his hesitation, Thor laid a hand on Bruce's shoulder, giving a squeeze that Bruce assumed was to be reassuring (which it was, though he didn't want it to be). 

"I cannot ask this of you in good conscience, but I need you. You are a good warrior, and a good man. With you, we can turn the tides of the battle in our favor." 

Bruce was quiet, as if he was actually considering saying no. It would've been easier to deny Thor, to just let the Hulk take over again and again until they fought their way out of whatever situation they'd found themselves in. They'd done it before, dragging themselves out of labs, prisons, security holds - a coliseum wouldn't be too different. 

But he made the mistake of glancing up, and he met Thor's eyes, and saw all the hope and the loyalty and the expectation there, the spark only barely dampened, even after everything he had been through. 

Bruce sighed, head lowering in defeat. 

How did he always end up in these situations? 

"...Where do we start?" 

**Author's Note:**

> I heard a vague rumor that Bruce hadn't been out of his own head since Ultron, so... That's a thing
> 
>  
> 
> I only publish a fic like once a year ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I'd be happy to take suggestions, if you folks have any


End file.
